Memo to Niman Ranch: Keep the Stickers Away From the Meat Grinder

Meli and I were eating dinner this evening, the entree of choice being some delicious Niman Ranch Fearless Franks. At one point I found something in my mouth that didn't seem like it would normally be part of a hot dog (vague though the typical hot dog meat component list may be). When I unfurled it, it turned out to be this:

Curious. I retrieved the Fearless Franks package, intending to ascertain the customer service number in order to voice my concerns. That's when I realized what the little thing was.

What? Can't see it? Here's a more obvious shot.

Yes, it was a piece of a Fearless Franks label. In a Fearless Frank!

But wait! What's that poking out of the partially-eaten frank from whence the label bit came?

Can it be?

Can it be?

Can it be... another label bit?

Mayhaps. Let's take a look.

Indeed! I know! I'll use my fork to see just how many label bits made it into this particular specimen of tubed meat. The answer is...

It was the Trader Joe's in Menlo Park. But last time I checked, that wasn't a hot dog manufacturing plant. So I'm not quite sure what their culpability in all this is, besides innocently offering Niman Ranch products to their consumers.

OH MY GOD. That's disgusting. Did you ever see that episode of the Simpsons where Lisa becomes a vegetarian, and one of her early revalations that inspires it is she imagines a steak and then the cow that it came from, and then a pork chop or something and the pig that it came out of, and then a hot dog and the raccoon foot, pigeon head, and old shoe that it came from?

Dude. You could've died! People get sued for stuff like that! In fact, the Fearless Frankophiles should be thankful that you aren't outraged persuing legal action, 'cause with those photographs and all, you totally have them by the balls. The BALLS.